


I want you to open your eyes

by orphan_account



Series: I want you (claws, cuddles, and all) [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Death of a character no one will miss, M/M, Merlin is still a warlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2012-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-18 05:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“No, Arthur, listen. <i>Listen!</i> He’s still here. Can’t you hear it? Can’t you hear how strong it is?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I want you to open your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> This follows about six months after _I want you (If you can't see it, you're blind.)_. Some people expressed an interest in the back story of how Merlin and the pack became a thing. Because of that, I've started working on _I want you to see another day_ , which opens with the night Merlin first saves Arthur's life. It's probably going to be a slow writing process, but hopefully it'll get done before the we're all too much older and (possibly) wiser. Crepuscular wolves are the most active at dawn and at twilight. Also, there is some discussion of character death, though it's no one who will be missed.

“No, Arthur, listen. _Listen!_ He’s still here. Can’t you hear it? Can’t you hear how strong it is?”  
  
Somewhere nearby, intermittent snarls and whimpers broke through the haze of exhaustion and the repetitive washes of white noise which he thought must be coming from within his own ears, because surely someone would have put a stop to it by now otherwise, right? If he felt capable of doing anything other than lying pathetically still on the concrete glutting itself on the warmth from his skin, he would have done anything within his power to put an end to that infuriatingly discordant sound, and he found it difficult to believe that anyone else would react differently.  
  
As he tried to categorize every battered and bruised millimeter of his unfortunately fragile flesh, he found it in himself to wonder whether the others had managed to kill the rest of the hunters or not. He hoped so. Nothing was more frustrating than having to track down rogue hunters. He would do it, of course - they couldn’t afford to leave anyone from the crew to alert the non-magical authorities and instigate some sort of investigation. Merlin would be able to obfuscate the evidence, but the pack would still be on Scotland Yard’s radar, and that was an unacceptable risk he was determined to avoid.  
  
Granted, he wouldn’t have to worry about any of this if Aridian had simply stayed away. Things had been going so well on that front for the last year, and Merlin had honestly started fooling himself into thinking that he had finally convinced the old hunter to keep his men and his dogma away from the pack. He should have realized that Aridian was simply gathering more strength.  
  
He saw again the bizarre expression on the man’s face when Merlin’s spell stopped his heart easier than a seasoned smoker snuffed out a cigarette. Maybe the hunter had grown tired, and wanted to die doing what he had dedicated most of his life to, but the memory of that grim satisfaction sat oddly with Merlin. He had never wanted to be anyone’s personal gentleman’s pistol. That wasn’t what his magic was for, and the idea that someone had used him that way left him feeling as though he had been doused in polluted water. It itched along his skin and curdled his gut, left a vile taste in his cotton-dry mouth.  
  
That revulsion he felt when Aridian died was what led to his impromptu nap on the tarmac. He’d stared down at the hunter for just a little too long, and some opportunistic - or possibly vengeful; he could never tell what motivated hunters: it was hard to empathize with people who lived their lives to kill nearly everyone he loved - hunter had used his lapse of awareness to deliver an irritatingly effective blow to the back of his head.  
  
Arthur was going to be terribly overprotective after this.  
  
Not that he had acted otherwise before now, but Merlin had a feeling any nods to the courtesy of a little subtlety were about to vanish like manners at the Mad Hatter’s tea party.  
  
As the noises all around him began to fade away, Merlin had the strangest impression that he was floating, and he worried in a fuzzy, disconnected sort of way, that he would float away entirely. Before he could genuinely start to fret over his incipient aeronautics, something heavy and warm settled on his chest, anchoring him. With the scents of forest and amber and clove heavy in his nostrils, he drifted back out and away.  
  
It was possible that Merlin did not mind Arthur’s protectiveness as much as he claimed.  
  
When he woke for the second time, his eyes settled on the same ceiling he had stared at in the early hours of the morning and the small hours of the night for the better part of the last five years. Stripes of sunlight decorated the white stubble, suggesting a time that was far later than he typically preferred; Merlin was a morning person, which meshed well with the rest of the pack’s crepuscular nature.  
  
Carefully categorizing the pain in his head, along with various limbs that took exception to his rapid meeting with the ground the night before, Merlin tried to shift around, only to find himself stymied by a now-familiar pressure on his chest. He tilted his head down and was both surprised and not to see a blonde head of hair directly over the space where he could feel his intrepid heart.  
  
Arthur must have been seriously wiped in order to fall asleep so near something that would have been almost deafening to his overly sensitive ears. One of Merlin’s hands twitched before he could think better of it, ready to rise and run through the tawny mess that practically demanded his attention. Then, Arthur nuzzled into his chest and turned his face toward Merlin’s, his eyes opening gradually.  
  
Sleep-mussed and open, his alpha looked so _young_ , in a way he couldn’t afford most of the time. Merlin watched the transition from drowsy innocence to wakeful authority with a wistful tug at his heart.  
  
Arthur rose slightly and placed a hand on the bed to support himself, staring down at Merlin with intent. “Merlin.”  
  
“Arthur,” he rejoined, feeling wary.  
  
 _”Never_ scare me like that again.”  
  
Merlin sighed heavily. “I wish I could promise you that I won’t, but I think we both know that that’s not true.”  
  
Glowering, Arthur muttered, “I hate it when you actually make sense.”  
  
“Really? I thought you’d love it. You always get irritable when I babble.”  
  
“Yes, well I can at least pretend to ignore you when you do that. When you sound all wise, I feel like I actually have to listen. It’s annoying.”  
  
Raising his eyebrows, Merlin mocked him gently. “Your life must be so hard.”  
  
“Mmm. But it would be a whole lot harder without you in it.” With the quietly intense way Arthur looked at him while he said this, all Merlin could do was believe.  



End file.
